The next morning--Tuesday, March 9th--there was a rush for the London
papers. Every copy that reached the Polterham vendors was snapped up
within a few minutes of its arrival. People who had no right of
membership ran ravening to the Literary Institute and the
Constitutional Literary Society, and peered over the shoulders of
legitimate readers, on such a day as this unrebuked. Mr. Chown's
drapery establishment presented a strange spectacle. For several hours
it was thronged with sturdy Radicals eager to hear their eminent friend
hold forth on the situation. At eleven o'clock Mr. Chown fairly mounted
a chair behind his counter, and delivered a formal harangue--thus, as
he boasted, opening the political campaign. He read aloud (for the
seventh time) Lord Beaconsfield's public letter to the Duke of
Marlborough, in which the country was warned, to begin with, against
the perils of Home Rule. "It is to be hoped that all men of light and
leading will resist this destructive doctrine.... Rarely in this
century has there been an occasion more critical. The power of England
and the peace of Europe will largely depend on the verdict of the
country.... Peace rests on the presence, not to say the ascendancy, of
England in the Councils of Europe."
"Here you have it," cried the orator, as he dashed the newspaper to his
feet, "pure, unadulterated Jingoism! 'Ascendancy in the Councils of
Europe!' How are the European powers likely to hear _that_, do you
think? I venture to tell my Lord Beaconsfield--I venture to tell him on
behalf of this constituency--aye, and on behalf of this country--that
it is _he_ who holds 'destructive doctrine'! I venture to tell my Lord
Beaconsfield that England is not prepared to endorse any such insolent
folly! We shall very soon have an opportunity of hearing how far such
doctrine recommends itself to _our_ man 'of light and leading'--to our
Radical candidate--to our future member, Mr. Denzil Quarrier!"
A burst of cheering echoed from the drapery-laden shelves. Two
servant-girls who had come to the door intent on purchase of hair-pins
ran frightened away, and spread a report that Mr. Chown's shop was on
fire.
At dinner-time the politician was faced by his angry wife.
"I know what the end of _this_'ll be!" cried Mrs. Chown. "You're
ruining your business, that's what you're doing! Who do you think'll
come to the shop if they find it full of shouting ragamuffins? They'll
all go to Huxtable's, that's what they'll do! I've no patience"----
"There's no need to declare _that_!" replied Mr. Chown, rolling his
great eyes at her with an expression of the loftiest scorn. "I have
known it for thirteen years. You will be so good as to attend to your
own affairs, and leave _me_ to see to _mine_! What does a woman care
for the interests of the country? Grovelling sex! Perhaps when I am
called upon to shoulder a rifle and go forth to die on the field of
battle, your dense understanding will begin to perceive what was at
stake.--Not another syllable! I forbid it! Sit down and serve the
potatoes!"
At the same hour Denzil Quarrier, at luncheon with Lilian, was giving
utterance to his feelings on the great topic of the day.
"Now is the time for women to show whether their judgment is worthy of
the least confidence. This letter of Beaconsfield's makes frank appeal
to the spirit of Jingoism; he hopes to get at the fighting side of
Englishmen, and go back to power on a wave of 'Rule, Britannia'
bluster. If it is true that women are to be trusted in politics, their
influence will be overwhelming against such irresponsible ambition. I
have my serious doubts"----
He shook his head and laughed.
"I will do my utmost!" exclaimed Lilian, her face glowing with
sympathetic enthusiasm. "I will go and talk to all the people we
know"----
"Really! You feel equal to that?"
"I will begin this very afternoon! I think I understand the questions
sufficiently. Suppose I begin with Mrs. Powell? She said her husband
had always voted Conservative, but that she couldn't be quite sure what
he would do this time. Perhaps I can persuade her to take our side."
"Have a try! But you astonish me, Lily--you are transformed!"
"Oh, I have felt that I might find courage when the time came." She put
her head aside, and laughed with charming _naivete_. "I can't sit idle
at home whilst you are working with such zeal. And I really _feel_ what
you say: women have a clear duty. How excited Mrs. Wade must be!"
"Have you written all the dinner-cards?"
"They were all sent before twelve."
"Good! Hammond will be here in half an hour to talk over the address
with me. Dinner at seven prompt; I am due at Toby's at eight. Well,
it's worth going in for, after all, isn't it? I am only just beginning
to live."
"And I, too!"
The meal was over. Denzil walked round the table and bent to lay his
cheek against Lilian's.
"I admire you more than ever," he whispered, half laughing. "What a
reserve of energy in this timid little girl! Wait and see; who knows
what sort of table you will preside at some day? I have found my
vocation, and there's no saying how far it will lead me. Heavens! what
a speech I'll give them at the Public Hall! It's bubbling over in me. I
could stand up and thunder for three or four hours!"
They gossiped a little longer, then Lilian went to prepare for her call
upon Mrs. Powell, and Quarrier retired to the library. Here he was
presently waited upon by Mr. Hammond, editor of the _Polterham
Examiner_. Denzil felt no need of assistance in drawing up the
manifesto which would shortly be addressed to Liberal Polterham; but
Hammond was a pleasant fellow of the go-ahead species, and his
editorial pen would be none the less zealous for confidences such as
this. The colloquy lasted an hour or so. Immediately upon the editor's
departure, a servant appeared at the study door.
"Mrs. Wade wishes to see you, sir, if you are at leisure."
"Certainly!"
The widow entered. Her costume--perhaps in anticipation of the sunny
season--was more elaborate and striking than formerly. She looked a
younger woman, and walked with lighter step.
"I came to see Mrs. Quarrier, but she is out. You, I'm afraid, are
frightfully busy?"
"No, no. This is the breathing time of the day with me. I've just got
rid of our journalist. Sit down, pray."
"Oh, I won't stop. But tell Lilian I am eager to see her."
"She is off canvassing--really and truly! Gone to assail Mrs. Powell.
Astonishing enthusiasm!"
"I'm delighted to hear it!"
The exclamation lingered a little, and there was involuntary surprise
on Mrs. Wade's features. She cast a glance round the room.
"Do sit down," urged Denzil, placing a chair. "What do you think of
Dizzy's letter? Did you ever read such bunkum? And his 'men of light
and leading'--ha, ha, ha!"
"He has stolen the phrase," remarked Mrs. Wade. "Where from, I can't
say; but I'm perfectly sure I have come across it."
"Ha! I wish we could authenticate that! Search your memory--do--and get
a letter in the _Examiner_ on Saturday."
"Some one will be out with it before then. Besides, I'm sure you don't
wish for me to draw attention to myself just now."
"Why not? I shall be disappointed if you don't give me a great deal of
help."
"I am hardly proper, you know."
She looked steadily at him, with an inscrutable smile, then let her
eyes again stray round the room.
"Bosh! As I was saying to Lily at lunch, women ought to have a
particular interest in this election. If they are worth anything at
all, they will declare that England sha'n't go in for the chance of war
just to please that Jew phrase-monger. I'm ready enough for a fight, on
sound occasion, but I won't fight in obedience to Dizzy and the
music-halls! By jingo, no!"
He laughed uproariously.
"You won't get many Polterham women to see it in that light," observed
the widow. "This talk about the ascendency of England is just the thing
to please them. They adore Dizzy, because he is a fop who has succeeded
brilliantly; they despise Gladstone, because he is conscientious and an
idealist. Surely I don't need to tell you this?"
She leaned forward, smiling into his face.
"Well," he exclaimed, with a laugh, "of course I can admit, if you
like, that most women are _not_ worth anything politically. But why
should I be uncivil?"
Mrs. Wade answered in a low voice, strangely gentle.
"Don't I know their silliness and worthlessness? What woman has more
reason to be ashamed of her sex?"
"Let us--hope!"
"For the millennium--yes." Her eyes gleamed, and she went on in a more
accustomed tone. "Women are the great reactionary force. In political
and social matters their native baseness shows itself on a large scale.
They worship the vulgar, the pretentious, the false. Here they will
most of them pester their husbands to vote for Welwyn-Baker just
because they hate change with the hatred of weak fear. Those of them
who know anything at all about the Irish question are dead set against
Ireland--simply because they are unimaginative and ungenerous; they
can't sympathize with what seems a hopeless cause, and Ireland to them
only suggests the dirty Irish of Polterham back streets. As for
European war, the idiots are fond of drums and fifes and military
swagger; they haven't brains enough to picture a battle-field."
"You are severe, Mrs. Wade. I should never have ventured"----
"You are still afraid of telling _me_ the truth!"
"Well, let us rejoice in the exceptions. Yourself, Lilian, my sister
Mary, for instance."
The widow let her eyes fall and kept silence.
"We hope you will dine with us on Friday of next week," said Denzil.
"Lilian posted you an invitation this morning. There will be a good
many people."
"Seriously then, I am to work for you, openly and vigorously?"
"What a contemptible fellow I should be if I wished you to hold aloof!"
He spoke sincerely, having overcome his misgivings of a short time ago.
"The fight will be fought on large questions, you know. I want to win,
but I have made up my mind to win honestly; it's a fortunate thing that
I probably sha'n't be called upon to declare my views on a thousand
side-issues."
"Don't be so sure of that. Polterham is paltry, even amid national
excitement."
"Confound it! then I will say what I think, and risk it. If they want a
man who will fight sincerely for the interests of the people, here he
is! I'm on the side of the poor devils; I wish to see them better off;
I wish to promote honest government, and chuck the selfish lubbers
overboard. Forgive the briny phrase; you know why it comes natural to
me."
Mrs. Wade gave him her kindest smile.
"You will win, no doubt of it; and not this battle only."
She rose, and half turned away.
"By-the-bye, shall you be able to finish your book?"
"It is finished. I wrote the last page yesterday morning. Wonderful,
wasn't it?"
"A good omen. My love to Lilian."
As they shook hands, Mrs. Wade just raised her eyes for an instant,
timorously. The look was quite unlike anything Denzil had yet seen on
her face. It caused him to stand for a few moments musing.
From half-past four to half-past six he took a long walk; such exercise
was a necessity with him, and the dwellers round about Polterham had
become familiar with the sight of his robust figure striding at a great
pace about roads and fields. Generally he made for some wayside inn,
where he could refresh himself with a tankard of beer, after which he
lit his pipe, and walked with it between his teeth. Toby Liversedge,
becoming aware of this habit, was inclined to doubt its prudence.
"Beware of the teetotalers, Denzil; they are a power among us." Whereto
Quarrier replied that teetotalers might be eternally condemned; he
would stick by his ale as tenaciously as the old farmer of Thornaby
Waste.
"It's the first duty of a Radical to set his face against humbug. If I
see no harm in a thing, I shall do it openly, and let people"----
At this point he checked himself, almost as if he had a sudden stitch
in the side. Tobias asked for an explanation, but did not receive one.
On getting home again, he found Lilian in the drawing-room. (As an
ordinary thing he did not "dress" for dinner, since his evenings were
often spent in the company of people who would have disliked the
conspicuousness of his appearance.) She rose to meet him with shining
countenance, looking happier, indeed, and more rarely beautiful than he
had ever seen her.
"What cheer? A triumph already?"
"I think so, Denzil; I really think so. Mrs. Powell has promised me to
do her very best with her husband. Oh, if you could have heard our
conversation! I hadn't thought it possible for any one to be so
ignorant of the simplest political facts. One thing that she said--I
was talking about war, and suddenly she asked me: 'Do you think it
likely, Mrs. Quarrier, that there would be an _inscription_?' For a
moment I couldn't see what she meant. 'An inscription?' 'Yes; if
there's any danger of that, and--my four boys growing up!' Then, of
course, I understood. Fortunately, she was so very much in earnest that
I had no temptation to smile."
"And did you encourage her alarm?"
"I felt I had no right to do that. To avoid repeating the word, I said
that I didn't think _that system_ would ever find favour in England. At
the same time, it was quite certain that our army would have to be
greatly strengthened if this war-fever went on. Oh, we had an endless
talk--and she was certainly impressed with my arguments."
"Bravo! Why, this is something like!"
"You can't think what courage it has given me! To-morrow I shall go to
Mrs. Clifford--yes, I shall. She is far more formidable; but I want to
try my strength."
"Ho, ho! What a pugnacious Lily--a sword-Lily! You ought to have had an
heroic name--Deborah, or Joan, or Portia! Your eyes gleam like beacons."
"I feel more contented with myself.--Oh, I am told that Mrs. Wade
called this afternoon?"
"Yes; anxious to see you. Burning with wrath against female Toryism.
She was astonished when I told her of your expedition."
Lilian laughed merrily. Thereupon dinner was announced, and they left
the room hand in hand.
That evening it was rumoured throughout the town that Mr. Welwyn-Baker
had telegraphed a resolve _not_ to offer himself for re-election. In a
committee-room at the Constitutional Literary Society was held an
informal meeting of Conservatives, but no one of them had definite
intelligence to communicate. Somebody had told somebody else that Hugh
Welwyn-Baker held that important telegram from his father; that was
all. Mr. Mumbray's hopes rose high. On the morrow, at another meeting
rather differently constituted (miserable lack of organization still
evident among the Tories), it was made known on incontestable authority
that the sitting Member _would_ offer himself for re-election. Mr.
Mumbray and his supporters held high language. "It would be party
suicide," they went about repeating. With such a man as Denzil Quarrier
on the Radical side, they _must_ have a new and a strong candidate! But
all was confusion; no one could take the responsibility of acting.
Already the affairs of the Liberals were in perfect order, and it took
but a day or two to decide even the minutiae of the campaign. To
Quarrier's candidature no one within the party offered the least
opposition. Mr. Chown, who had for some time reserved his judgment,
declared to all and sundry that "all things considered, a better man
could scarcely have been chosen." Before thus committing himself he had
twice called upon Quarrier, and been closeted with him for a longtime.
Now, in these days of arming, he received a card inviting him (and his
wife) to dine at the candidate's house on a certain evening a fortnight
ahead; it was the second dinner that Denzil had planned, but Mr. Chown
was not aware of this, nor that the candidate had remarked of him to
Lilian: "We must have that demagogue among his kind, of course."
Denzil's agent (Hummerstone by name) instantly secured rooms in
admirable situations, and the Public Hall was at the disposal of the
party for their first great meeting a few days hence.
In facing that assembly (Toby Liversedge was chairman) Denzil had a
very slight and very brief recurrence of his platform nervousness.
Determined to risk nothing, he wrote out his speech with great care and
committed it to memory. The oration occupied about two hours, with not
a moment of faltering. It was true that he had discovered his vocation;
he spoke like a man of long Parliamentary experience, to the astonished
delight of his friends, and with enthusiastic applause from the mass of
his hearers. Such eloquence had never been heard in Polterham. If
anything, he allowed himself too much scope in vituperation, but it was
a fault on the right side. The only circumstance that troubled him was
when his eye fell upon Lilian, and he saw her crying with excitement; a
fear passed through his mind that she might be overwrought and fall
into hysterics, or faint. The occasion proved indeed too much for her;
that night she did not close her eyes, and the next day saw her
prostrate in nervous exhaustion. But she seemed to pick up her strength
again very quickly, and was soon hard at work canvassing among the
electors' wives.
"Don't overdo it," Denzil cautioned her. "Remember, if you are ill, I
shall mope by your bedside."
"I can't stop now that I have begun," was her reply. "If I try to sit
idle, I _shall_ be ill."
She could read nothing but newspapers; her piano was silent; she talked
politics, and politics only. Never was seen such a change in woman,
declared her intimates; yet, in spite of probabilities, they thought
her more charming than ever. No word of animosity ever fell from her
lips; what inspired her was simple ardour for Denzil's cause, and, as
she considered it, that of the oppressed multitude. In her way, said
Toby Liversedge, she was as eloquent as Quarrier himself, and sundry
other people were of the same opinion.